


Head Wounds Are Only Part of the Package

by everysecondtuesday (tuesday)



Category: Psych
Genre: Multi, New Year's Resolution Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-12
Updated: 2008-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/everysecondtuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn has problems with Gus's girlfriend. Namely, that it's serious and it's not with him.  (The first time was an accident.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Wounds Are Only Part of the Package

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Steph for the New Year's Resolution Challenge. Thank you so much to imbrii, magicalbrains, lozenger8, and tl__dr for all of your help with this story.

The first time was an accident. Shawn had wandered into Gus's apartment without knocking because it was Gus, and Gus always had time for his best friend, even if he needed a little convincing first. If Gus didn't want Shawn to just drop on in without phoning ahead or giving some sort of warning, then he would invest in better security or hang a sock on the knob or . . . or something. Anything else was an obvious invitation for Shawn to barge in and make himself at home.

Somehow, though, Shawn suspected Gus hadn't meant to issue such an invitation when he had company of the sexy and touch-friendly kind. Especially not when Gus knew about Shawn's memory and observational skills.

The following image was burned into Shawn's mind: Gus on his stomach, stretched out across the living room floor, head pillowed on his forearms, and naked to the waist. His shirt was discarded on the back of the couch along with a navy blue tie and a black, leather purse (off-brand, but still expensive). His back, neck, and shoulders glistened with massage oil. Most glaring of all was the petite, shirtless Korean woman astride Gus's thighs, leaning her weight into her hands as she rubbed circles and more oil into Gus's lower back. She was clad in only a tiny, lacy blue bra (Victoria's Secret's "Very Sexy" plunge demi bra, if Shawn wasn't mistaken), a suede skirt, and strappy little heeled sandals. Well, she might have been wearing panties, too, but nothing could have made Shawn want hard evidence one way or the other.

Shawn really did intend to just back out quickly and quietly, with an emphasis on quickly. He had plenty of incentive--the problem with his training was that he really couldn't shut it off, and he'd already slotted several facts into place to form a picture of Gus's date. She was trained as a professional massage therapist (score, Gus), not just an amateur looking to get her hands all over Gus (though that was obviously another motivating factor); she had two affectionate, but trouble-making dogs (tiny teeth marks on the purse strap and black and white fur on her skirt); and she was very much into giving Gus a back-rub. Shawn wanted to get the hell out of there before he discovered anything else about her, like she volunteered to help orphans or wanted to give Gus a gajillion babies.

Unfortunately, in his haste to flee, he didn't quite achieve the "quiet" part of his quick and quiet retreat, or even the retreat. He stumbled over Gus's umbrella basket and right into the coat rack. He and the coat rack went down together directly into the small side table by the door. He may have also made some surprised . . . squawking noises.

Herds of rampaging elephants were probably quieter.

"Ow, ow, ow," Shawn said mostly to himself from the floor. It felt like he'd taken a chunk of flesh from his hip on the table's corner, and his skull felt like it should be in pieces. The coat rack had battered his entire front and was resting uncomfortably against his chest. Shawn shoved it feebly to the side.

"Shawn, what?" Gus asked, brows scrunched together in a cutely confused way. He was standing now, and Shawn could see that his chest was all shiny from massage oil, too. Now that he was closer, Shawn could smell lavender and sage. Shawn hated lavender.

"Do you know this guy?" Gus's date was also standing, but she'd somehow vaulted over the couch. Shawn noted that her footing and stance indicated she'd taken some self defense classes, but she was no Bruce Lee--even after Shawn had proven himself the epitome of Not A Threat, she made no move to approach. Instead, she crossed her arms defensively over her chest. Like Shawn was interested in ogling someone _Gus_ was dating.

Gus rubbed his face. "This is my best friend, Shawn."

Shawn waved weakly.

"Shawn, this is Kim."

"I didn't know you had a roommate," she said slowly, thin eyebrows slowly furrowing. Shawn could see her doing the math of one bedroom plus two possible tenants, and she didn't seem to like the sum of her equation at all.

"Hell, no!" Gus said. His horror at the idea of living with Shawn wasn't quite as offensive as it was hilarious, so Shawn magnanimously let it pass. Also, his kidneys hurt, and the floor was so very comfortable, like a hundred feather mattresses made of stone. Shawn had no intention of moving for at least another minute. Maybe five. An hour if he could stretch it that far. "I mean, no. I don't," Gus spoke more calmly, but just as emphatically. "I'm not actually sure how he got in here." That was possibly accusation in Gus's voice.

"I made a copy of your key when I watered your plants." While Shawn was talking, Kim ducked down behind the couch, and Shawn could see when she stood again that another reason for her having immediately jumped over it was that her shirt had been thrown behind it. She was oddly unselfconscious as she pulled the shirt on--possibly because the halter top barely hid more than her bra. Or maybe she'd already decided Shawn was gay from the lack of staring. He decided he could correct her later, if she came back after this at all.

"As I recall, all my plants died over two years ago as a direct result of you _not_ watering them." That was definitely accusation in Gus's voice.

"There was a Knight Rider marathon, and I got distracted," Shawn said, making a 'what can you do' gesture at Kim. It was obvious that charm was not going to work on Gus at this point, but there was always charming by proxy. She didn't seem impressed, but Shawn tried again with one of his more winning smiles. To Gus, he said, "And hey, it's not my fault you haven't changed your locks in two and a half years."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Shawn. Thank you for dropping by, but as you can see, I already have company, so--"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way."

"Then why aren't you moving?" Gus's voice sounded like he was twenty seconds away from saying something like 'chop chop!' and clapping his hands before helping Shawn forcefully on his way, drill sergeant style (sometimes Shawn wondered if Gus had spent too many of his formative years around Henry, because that displeased look was disturbingly familiar), or maybe nudging Shawn helpfully along with his foot.

"It feels like I'm moving," Shawn said, and it was actually true. The room felt like it was tilted at a twenty degree angle, but the direction of the slope kept changing.

"Shawn." And that was either concern or ire, but it was getting difficult to tell by this point.

"Sorry," and Shawn kind of was, even if he really, really wasn't. Kim wasn't even good enough to be taken in by his charms--her pouty lips were twisted at the corners as if she was contemplating a wet rat perched on a toilet lid. Gus didn't need to date a rat hater.

"I think I might have a concussion," Shawn admitted after a moment more of clinging to the floor and failing at sitting up.

Gus sighed. "I'll call an ambulance."

"I'm fine!" Shawn protested and lurched up. "See, sitting up!" Shawn promptly slumped over again. He couldn't stop a pained "Agh!" from escaping when he hit his head again.

Gus crossed his arms. "You are not driving yourself to the hospital."

"You take him to the hospital. I'll just," Kim waved a hand at the door, "go." Gus started to protest, and she smiled and gave him a "no, really," look, earning herself a couple of Shawn points (redeemable for further smiles, charm, and sometimes, if he was feeling especially generous, pineapple). Maybe she wasn't a totally horrible person after all. Then she leaned up and pecked Gus on the lips. What kind of kiss was that? That was like saying 'I think you're unworthy of tongue,' and that even after a smoking hot back-rub that looked like it had been about to turn into something else entirely.

"I'm so sorry," Gus said and stroked a hand across her cheek.

"We can pick this back up later, okay?" She grabbed her purse and crossed to the door, stepping around Shawn and over the treacherous basket and scattered umbrellas.

"I can't believe you managed to both injure yourself and drive off my date in under five minutes," Gus said, crouching down by Shawn.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were dating someone," Shawn said. "That was at least the third date."

"It wasn't the third date," Gus said. Shawn gave a scandalized gasp, because this was Gus, and Gus had rules about how many dates were appropriate before trying for sexy-times. Then Gus said, "It was the fifth."

If Shawn could have sat up, he might have punched Gus's shoulder. He settled for kicking at Gus's ankle, but he missed as Gus dodged out of the way, the traitor. "Were you planning on telling me before the wedding?"

"I know you're still bitter about Mira," said Gus. "But the thing is, you scare away my girlfriends."

"What are you talking about?" asked Shawn. "You never introduce me to them. I usually have to steal your address book and pretend to be an apartment inspector to meet them."

"And that would be why I don't inflict you on them until I know it's serious."

"Are you sure it's not learning you have a Spider-Man nightlight?"

"Katelyn liked comics!"

"But did she like dealing with creepy light bulb staring when she got up to pee in the middle of the night?"

"She complained about creepy staring, but it was more along the lines of discovering she was dating Batman's best friend and subsequently being stalked through the streets at night than any complaints about my bedroom."

"Does this make you Alfred?" Shawn asked. "Or the Boy Wonder?"

"Please. Can you imagine me in tights?"

"Do you really want the answer to that?"

Gus shook his head and hooked an arm around Shawn's shoulders. "You can keep your fantasies to yourself. Ready?"

"No," Shawn said.

"Up we go." Gus half-lifted Shawn, stumbling up, and Shawn leaned into Gus's body. Underneath all the lavender, he smelled faintly of expensive cologne, soap, and flour and spices.

"You made her your special muffins," Shawn said accusingly as he put an arm around Gus's shoulder and tried not to think of how warm and slick Gus's skin was under his hand.

"I made them for you. I was going to tell you about Kim tomorrow." Gus's voice was properly contrite, but the words failed to please Shawn as much as Gus was obviously hoping.

"And you thought I needed special muffins to prepare for this? What dark secrets is she hiding?" Shawn said on auto-pilot as he tried to figure out how serious Gus was about this girl. Muffins! That was like saying it might be love. "Does she have a mysterious past as an assassin dominatrix? Was she the second shooter on the grassy knoll?"

"Nothing so exciting, just a few ax murders and a bank robbery or two." Gus dragged Shawn over to the couch as he spoke. After dumping Shawn there, he grabbed the phone.

"What are you doing?" Shawn only heard three beeps as Gus pushed in numbers.

"If you really do have a concussion, then I'm calling an ambulance."

"I'll be fine," Shawn protested. "Just drop me off at the hospital."

"So you can sneak out another entrance? I know you, Shawn." Gus ignored Shawn's further protests as he turned back to the phone.

\--

Worse yet, it turned out Shawn really did have a concussion and had to be held overnight for observation, and when Gus came to pick up Shawn late the next morning, he brought Kim. Gus was carrying his muffins in a Tupperware container, and Kim held a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear clutching a large, pink heart. The flowers were from her (Gus knew his feelings about azaleas), but Shawn couldn't decide on the teddy bear. On the one hand, it was just the sort of weird thing Gus might think was appropriate. On the other, Kim looked like she was trying really hard despite the circumstances of their meeting. On the third, awesome, mutant hand, would she really bring him two things? At least she was dressed in an unsexy business casual today (red button up with a black wool skirt; sensible in flats instead of heels).

Shawn looked from Kim to Gus, and Gus shot him a look that said, "Be nice. I know where you live and the location of the keys to your motorcycle, and you know how I've always hated that thing. I'm just looking for an excuse." Shawn's attempts to convey that he knew where Gus kept his comic stash failed to go over as well--Gus drew back the muffins a few inches.

Shawn pasted on an extra bright smile and directed it Kim's way. "Kimmy Bear! So nice to see you again, and more dressed this time!"

Kim didn't seem to appreciate Shawn's attempts at civility. "Right," she said doubtfully. "These are for you." She placed both the flowers and the teddy bear on the small table by the bed (she used her left hand, and Shawn could tell by the ink stains at the tips of her fingers that she was either a writer of the old-fashioned notebook kind or an artist who preferred inks), then turned to Gus. "I'm going to grab some coffee. Want anything from the vending machine?"

"I'd like a Mounds bar," said Shawn. "With extra coconut!"

"We're fine," said Gus, patting her on the shoulder and glaring at Shawn like he was the one being rude. "We'll catch up with you in a few minutes." Kim tactfully withdrew, shooting Shawn one last doubtful look, as if he wasn't worthy of alone time with Gus.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were raised by rabid mountain lions," Gus said after Kim had left the room.

"But you've met my parents, so you know it's rabid mountain lion singular."

"Shawn, Kim is a very nice woman, and I want you two to get along."

"Nice? Who calls their significant other nice, but people who can't say anything better about them? You call your cousin who huffed all that glue nice."

"Jake is a very nice guy--"

"Because he's lost too many brain cells to be mean."

"--And Kim is an amazing person whom I'm sure you'd like if you weren't so damn irrational."

And okay, Gus was pissed and overprotective, apparently, because this was endangering Shawn's chances for getting those delicious, delicious muffins. Already they'd been drawn further away and tucked forbiddingly under Gus's arms. This called for desperate measures, by which Shawn meant lying. Lots of lying.

"She's very nice," Shawn said soothingly, keeping an eye on the Tupperware. "Totally awesome, I'm sure. Not at all cheating on you with a personal body trainer named Pierre who could bench press us both with one hand."

"What?"

"I'm sure she's an amazing person," Shawn said.

"No, about the cheating."

"Uh," Shawn said. "It's not cheating if it's an open relationship?"

"What makes you think she's cheating on me?" Gus asked slowly in a low voice.

"C'mon, Gus, this isn't even Watson-level. She had a hickey on her neck that wasn't there when she left your apartment last night, and you were here with me until midnight when they finally shoved me in this room and told you to go away. You're not telling me you went back and she was waiting for you at her apartment. You haven't even given her a key yet!" Shawn paused as a horrible thought occurred to him. "You haven't, have you?"

Gus relaxed. "No, I haven't." He looked entirely too smug for someone whose special someone was actually banging someone else.

"You dog," Shawn gasped.

Gus smirked and said, "A gentlemen doesn't kiss and tell."

"So you could give me all the juicy details," said Shawn. "Except don't, because I don't want to hear about how my supposed best friend left me to languish here in this sterile prison while he made out with some girl instead of picking me up. I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Whatever, _Sherlock_. You know you love me." Gus handed Shawn the muffins and walked out.

Shawn looked down at the muffins and back up at Gus's retreating back.

"Yeah, I kind of do," he didn't say.

\--

The second time was also an accident, but it was totally not Shawn's fault. Gus had specifically told Shawn to drop by for dinner, but he'd said nothing about Kim, nor about how Shawn should wait until actual evening and by no means stop by any earlier. Shawn really, really needed to explain the sock method to Gus, or that he should at least send a text message along the lines of, "Beware the beast of two backs." As it was, at least this time Shawn didn't give himself a concussion in his hasty exit, and they apparently didn't notice until after the slamming of the door.

Halfway home, Shawn's phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. Helmets plus motorcycles plus cell phones came to a sum of Gus being mad no matter what he did, and Shawn would rather deal with disappointed voice mails than another hospital visit (even if Juliet had turned a delightful pink when she discovered the heart bear and flowers on her desk; the "-L" card Shawn had left with it had been an especial stroke of masterwork, because she'd kept staring surreptitiously and with great suspicion at Lassy the entirety of that briefing).

When Shawn finally took out his phone and checked the message--safely sprawled across his own couch and determinedly not thinking of Gus's bare skin and the scar running down his shoulder, the way his muscles had flexed and shifted as he'd pressed Kim into the couch, the brief glimpse of a lacy black bra strap crushed beneath them (indicating planned afternoon sex, because Kim didn't strike him as the type to wear lingerie on a daily basis)--he'd almost reached a sort of equilibrium.

Gus's first hesitant "Uh, hey, Shawn," sounded properly contrite, and Shawn relaxed into the sound of Gus's voice warm against his ear. Then there was the rustle of shifting fabric, like sheets sliding against sheets. Gus's voice suddenly went unsteady. "Sorry about, uh--" Gus voice stopped for five, six, seven seconds--longer. Shawn carefully didn't identify the soft, wet noises in that interim and instead thought about the curves and lines of Gus's back and shoulders--before he realized that wasn't actually helping at all. Gus's voice came back breathy and low. "About, ah, before. I'll call you later." There was the sound of Gus fumbling with his cell phone, and then a small click and silence.

"You have no more new messages. Main menu," his phone droned on.

"Right," Shawn said, holding the phone against his forehead. "Later."

\--

At this point, Shawn was determined that there wouldn't be a third time. He already had two too many memories of walking in on Gus. He dragged Gus out the next night to Tom Blair's Pub for a guy's night of drinks and fun, emphasis on the drinks. Shawn snagged a table early, and by the time Gus arrived (two minutes late and with a hickey of his own, peeking out from under his collar when he leaned down to steal a sip of Shawn's Mai Tai), Shawn had already scoped out some potential targets. There was a cute, blonde PhD with commitment issues; a tall, curvy, Latina doctor who was a workaholic; and a freckled redhead with the most awesome black riding boots, who was secretly a lesbian. Better yet, they were all together and looking for three empty chairs.

Shawn sent Gus for another Mai Tai, this time with a little green umbrella (the green would take him longer, because there were only three left), then motioned the women over.

"Our dates canceled on us," Shawn said, gesturing at Gus up by the bar. "If you don't mind sharing a table, we won't mind you keeping us from looking like complete losers." The lovely doctor seemed to think that nothing would prevent that, but the PhD was amused and the redhead just wanted to sit down.

By the time Gus returned with the drink, having successfully obtained the very last green umbrella, Shawn was mid-story: "And then Gus here smacked him in the face with his sample case like a black Jackie Chan."

"He did not," gasped the doctor--Tina? Gina?--in a breathy, disbelieving voice. Shawn could tell by her eyes she was hooked, even if she didn't really believe a word Shawn was saying.

"Of course I didn't," said Gus. "Shawn, I'm--"

"--Incredibly shy and, dare I say, modest," Shawn interrupted, flashing Nina a reassuring smile.

Gus took in all the smiling faces and said, "Ladies, please excuse us." He grabbed Shawn's arm and dragged him away.

"Dude, wait, my green umbrella--"

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Gus demanded after manhandling Shawn out of the bar.

"Nothing," Shawn said, holding up his hands and retreating further into the parking lot. "I'm just making friends."

"If you're making friends, then why are you bringing me into it?"

"Are you saying you don't need more friends, too? Everybody needs more friends, Gus! Haven't you heard that sharing is caring?"

"Trust me, you're more than enough of a commitment."

"Apparently not," Shawn muttered and then hoped that wasn't really as bitter as it sounded.

Gus seemed to get the gist of the problem immediately, though he was thankfully as oblivious as ever to the entirety. "I'm not getting rid of my girlfriend because you're being petty."

"I'm not being petty! For one thing, there aren't enough of us to form the Heartbreakers--though we could ask around. I think Jules might be up for it."

"Only if I get to be Mike Campbell."

"You don't want to be Tench? You'd get to move on to a band called _Tuna Fish and Larry_!"

Gus ignored this and got back to his original point: "Shawn, seriously. You are failing at beginner level friendship here."

"I'm not the one spending all his time with Y--"

"If you call her Yoko, I'm going to hurt you," Gus said. "Kim isn't the one causing problems with our friendship."

"I was going to do no such thing," Shawn lied. "Your girlfriend. I'm not the one spending all his time with your girlfriend and ignoring his best friend duties!"

"I not only came out here tonight for you, I let you pull me away from breakfast this morning to hang around the police station for an hour and a half before you bothered to tell me we didn't actually have a case anymore, not to mention that this afternoon we spent two hours pursuing strays through alleyways and then another half an hour dumpster diving for clues. I spend more time with you than I do at my real job, and at least there I'm not likely to catch hepatitis."

"Yes, well." Shawn hated it when Gus used logic against him. It was his kryptonite. The only thing to do was ignore it. "You should spend more. And I'm pretty sure Y--Kim--hates me."

"She doesn't even know you. Yesterday, it . . . didn't work out, and you refused to let her come to dinner with us tonight, though I can see why." Gus had finally transitioned from pissed to rueful. "Just, try. For me."

"There is no try," Shawn intoned.

Gus raised an eyebrow. "So does that mean you're going to make an effort?"

"An effort? I will make a campaign. That girl will love me. But, uh," Shawn said, waving a hand, "Not like you."

"Like you could steal someone from me," said Gus.

"Like I would try." Gus looked at Shawn. "Trish didn't count! She totally had a thing for me first, and she was just stringing us both along, anyway."

"Dinner tomorrow?"

"You know it!"

Gus had obviously forgiven Shawn, because he offered a small fist bump before saying, "And now, I'll let you get back to your mini-harem. I'm going home to bed."

"It's only eight!"

Gus grinned. "I didn't say I was going to sleep."

Shawn returned the smile, but he found himself fighting back the flood of visual memory that triggered and wondered how the hell he was going to get through this without killing Gus, Kim, or himself.

He'd always heard that the Bahamas were nice this time of year.

\--

So Shawn made an effort. Kim didn't have any glaring flaws (or even hidden, dark secrets--the background check Shawn had finagled from Juliet hadn't turned anything up, either), and she made Gus happy. It was almost painful how much Gus smiled around her, how they joked around and touched free and easy. It wasn't like Mira where Gus just shut off, lost in a fog of pheromones and desire. If Gus was preoccupied, it was by something in the moment, like touching a hand to the sleeve of her cashmere sweater, or running his fingers through the fringe of her hair, or smiling indulgently when she bumped his feet with hers as they sat down to dinner. It was sweet (cloying).

Kim passed Shawn the salad and said, "So what do you do, Shawn?"

"I'm an etymologist at the university," said Shawn as he added a few forkfuls to his plate. "I'm currently studying the elusive--"

Gus kicked Shawn under the table.

"Ow! Dude." They engaged in a small staring match, and Gus broke away to look at Kim.

"Shawn doesn't even know what an etymologist is."

"They study insects . . . or something."

"He's also a compulsive liar," Gus continued without acknowledging Shawn's words.

"It pays very well! Someday, I hope to go pro, but I have to practice constantly to keep my game up." Shawn shot Kim a thumbs-up and reached over to grab some pasta.

"As I already told you, Shawn and I are partnered in a private detective agency."

"_Psychic_ detective agency," Shawn said.

Kim raised both eyebrows, and Shawn wondered when Gus had planned to tell her that part.

"That must be," Kim paused as if searching for more diplomatic phrasing, "interesting."

"Would you like a free demonstration?" Shawn motioned for her to give him her hand, and Gus just as quickly gestured for her to ignore him.

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think I'm in need of any sort of psychic visions or readings." Kim piled her plate with the mixed vegetables, but kept them carefully separate from the salad. She didn't reach for the fettuccine at all.

"Oh, come on, just for fun." Shawn put a couple fingers to his temple and pulled up a few observations from memory. Before he could decide whether to start with the fact that she was lactose intolerant (she'd also avoided the cheesy mashed potatoes, but she definitely wasn't on a diet if the skittles she'd been chowing down on happily in the hospital lobby had been any indication) or that she had two brothers (Shawn had maybe rifled briefly through her purse and found some wallet photos while she and Gus had been opening the wine in the kitchen), Gus kicked Shawn again, right in the shin. "Dude! Bruises!"

"I'm sure you have more amusing party tricks," Kim said and brushed a hand down Gus's bicep. Apparently she didn't approve of shin-kicking. "Feel free to entertain us with one of those. Gus said something about you having attended magician's school?"

"Ah, yes, magician's school. Sadly, I was kicked out when it turned out that no one but me was all that enthusiastic about the addition of goldfish and red food coloring to the water tank." Gus rolled his eyes as if to say, see, more lies, but Kim seemed amused. "After that, I went somewhere they would appreciate me: Clown school. It was there that I first learned to juggle." Shawn grabbed a couple rolls to use in exhibition when Gus shot him one of those "prove it" looks.

Once Kim actually loosened up some, dinner passed from awkward into easy, meandering conversation. Shawn had ample time for consideration, for watching the new couple and their small touches and sidelong glances, for letting his mind race distractedly down familiar paths he knew he shouldn't travel so often.

Shawn was happy for Gus--he was. He wasn't irrationally angry that Gus had fallen for someone else--really fallen, not just a crush--and even if Shawn wasn't the epitome of ecstatic, at the very least he could give Gus the runner-up prize of only mild discontent. Despite himself, Shawn even kind of liked Kim. She really was kind of sweet, and not just in an ate paint chips sort of way. She was trying to be thoughtful, leaving the two alone after dessert to "go shopping with the girls," though Shawn noted the bulge of a book in her purse (and she _read_) and how she'd told Gus right before dinner that she would probably just go to a coffee shop for the evening. And Gus liked her, and--other than Shawn--Gus didn't have lapses in judgment of character. It was why Gus had never been fond of Shawn's girlfriends (no matter how much Shawn had held out hope for other possibilities).

They watched an hour of American Duos (Zapato had been replaced by a wiry woman originally from India, who still had a faint accent), then Shawn said, "I should go."

"You don't have to," said Gus. "Who knows how long Kim will be gone, and I have a mini-marathon of MASH on Tivo."

Shawn wanted to, but he thought Kim might be a fast reader.

"Sorry, dude, plans."

"Oh, now you're the one making plans when we're supposed to hang out." Gus threw one of the throw pillows at Shawn's head, but missed by half a foot; it thudded against the door.

Shawn held up his hands. "I thought you'd want to retire early again, and Brittany--that cute little redhead from last night--said she wanted to hear more stories about the adventures of Psych-Man and his Magic Head."

"You are not calling me that."

"No, I told her your name was Bud."

"Stop doing that, Shawn!"

Gus threw the second pillow, but Shawn could tell he was secretly pleased that Shawn was going out and getting a life.

\--

Shawn took the stairs down and walked around the corner to the bistro he knew stayed open until a little past midnight. He slid into a seat across from Kim and said, "I can't promise to like you."

"I could say the same," Kim said, lowering her book, and it was obvious that Shawn had moved from an object of possible derision to definite amusement at some point that evening. Shawn suspected it was when he'd discovered that buttered rolls had a slightly different velocity than non-buttered rolls and misjudged the timing while juggling.

"But let's pretend."

Kim said nothing for a few moments, eyes scrutinizing Shawn's face, her brows slightly furrowed in consideration, her head tilted slightly to one side. Then she shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay, that's it?"

"You could make things very difficult for me, and I could make things very difficult for you. In the end, Gus would be the one to suffer most from the cross-fire. You didn't say that we actually had to like each other, and who knows? It could actually get easier over time." Kim shot Shawn a wicked grin as she stood and flicked his hair. "Especially if you keep dropping pastries on your head. You've still got butter in your hair."

Shawn sat in the bistro a while after she left. It was impossible not to think about where she was going, what they were going to do, what Shawn had already seen, interrupted, so Shawn just sat back in his seat and tipped his head up to stare at the ceiling.

There were 126 panels, and the menu had been tinted red; the special was the Mahi Mahi Mirror sandwich, but it wasn't available after eight p.m., and the food Shawn had already eaten rested heavy in his stomach.

(Shawn had kissed Gus once, drunk in Mexico on cheap cerveza and the joy of having Gus with him in another country, sharing the sights and scenes and different culture. Gus had laughed and said, "You're such a slut when you're drinking, Shawn," and leaned back a bit in the bed, almost like an invitation, but his eyes had been more clouded with alcohol than Shawn's and his speech slurred, so in the end Shawn had laughed, "Yeah, I kind of am," and gone back to the bar and fucked the first girl who'd given him a second glance.)

The seats were made of wicker and cane, and three were painted white, but the rest were a dark maroon; the paint's trim matched the majority of the chairs.

(Right now, Kim was probably opening the door and Gus would be standing, that surprised, utterly delighted grin crossing his face.)

The tabletop was Formica and edged with steel, the legs a dull grey.

(And it was just so damn difficult not to remember the light shifting along Gus's back, his eyes closed and seeking pleasure, the birthmark light against Gus's ankle, the small hand that seemed almost pale against Gus's neck, how Gus had--it was difficult, and an improper use of his gift, and if it was just fascination, some intellectual curiosity, maybe Shawn could get over it, but he'd always been so terrible at temptation.)

There were only two hats in the room.

Opening eyes he'd closed at some point, Shawn stood and walked out into the street, heading for his motorcycle, then the Psych office. Chief Vick had given them a back-log of minor cold cases to look over at their leisure, and Shawn had nothing better to put his skills to. Maturing apparently meant becoming a workaholic instead of running away, and really, Shawn didn't have the time or money to go to Tahiti right now. Besides, who would discover what had happened to Maggy Holdt's vanished collection of antique grandfather clocks if Shawn disappeared?

\--

The compromise worked, but it didn't get easier. A week passed, two, three, more. He and Kim danced awkwardly around one another and tried not to fight too much over whose weekend it was to have Gus. Shawn threw himself into his work and flirting with Jules and Lassy-face, with the suspect of the week, with anyone who was able to distract him. Shawn made it through twelve of the cold cases, though there were still some that even his skills couldn't help (he suspected that Michael Jones's red Dodge had been taken by the bitter ex-girlfriend and left to rust in a forest somewhere, but with no proof, he preferred to think it was stolen by a little old lady from Pasadena). Occasionally, he went for dinner with some of the people he met and befriended and eventually left behind. Juliet managed to drag him and Lassiter out on a couple of SBPD bonding bowling games, but Shawn tried to avoid those, because there were only so many times he could use the excuse that he'd strained his bowling hand and had to take it easy. She was also growing steadily more suspicious about the lack of Lego bowling shoes after he'd told her that yes, he had accepted their offer of sponsorship.

Shawn even went out with Kim and Gus once or twice, though his attempts at bringing along a double "date" were foiled when Brittany (whom he'd met again at Tom Blair's Pub and confused by breaking down and demanding where she'd gotten those sweet riding boots) totally ditched him. And by cell phone! Perhaps she'd had a sixth sense that Kim wanted them to see the latest Cameron Diaz movie.

"What do you mean you can't come?" Shawn demanded of Brittany and the cell phone. Gus and Kim stopped by the ticket booth and looked back at Shawn, who tried waving them ahead even as he pitched his voice louder. "I thought we had something special!"

"I can't believe you're doing this," Brittany said.

"I can't believe _you're_ doing this. What happened to all those bonding moments over cocktails and cheap wine?"

"We bonded over our mutual admiration of The Cure and liking members of our own sex. He's totally listening in, isn't he?"

"I don't know what you mean," Shawn said carefully, eying Gus eying him and Kim breaking away to pay for her ticket.

"I thought you understood that I'm not going to help you with your weird obsession. Either come out or leave that poor bastard alone."

"What?"

"Do I look like I'm interested in being a beard?"

"I don't know, I can't see you." To Gus, Shawn mouthed, "I think she's not wearing underwear," and pointed at the phone.

"Fuck off." The line went dead.

And he'd thought he and Brittany had really had something, bonding over Angelina and Gus and "Pictures of You". It was, apparently, not to be. Brittany liked her men to be women, and Shawn liked hanging out with his best friend without being accused of being a "pathetic little bitch." Just because it was possibly true was no reason to call him on it.

"Sadly, it was with someone else," said Shawn, putting away the phone. "This leaves me without someone to pay." Shawn was going to use this as his excuse to leave, but before he could ride that train of thought back on home, Gus rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet.

"Two, please," he said into the window.

"I've already got mine," Kim said, holding up her ticket from her place by the doors.

Gus hooked a thumb Shawn's way and said, "Apparently I have two dates tonight," then pulled open a door for them.

"I've always wanted to be Jeanne Tripplehorn."

"If I'm Bill Paxton and Kim's Chloe Sevigny, who's going to be Ginnifer Goodwin?"

"No one," said Kim, grabbing Shawn's shoulder and pushing him in. "I think wife one will agree we don't need a wife three."

After they entered, Gus said, "You go ahead and find seats--I'll grab our drinks. Diet Coke?"

Kim nodded, and Shawn made a hissing sound of disgust and took three steps away. Kim gave him one of her "This is not one of those things you do that I find amusing," and Shawn dialed it down a little and gave an apologetic half-shrug.

"I refuse to sit at the very front, Shawn," Gus said. "You know how it strains my neck."

"I'm sure we'll find something," Kim said and tugged Shawn toward the entrance. Did their compromise allow for touching? It was only on the forearm, but still, between that and the shoulder shoving, Shawn was beginning to wonder if he was wrong and Kim was wife one. "Personally, I prefer the middle."

"Shawn is very particular--like a younger, less talented George Takei," Gus warned and walked to the back of the horde of people demanding buttery popcorn blood. Gus, at least, seemed to be safe in his Big Love role, though perhaps too comfortable. Shawn wondered when it would be appropriate to start threatening divorce.

"I'm particular?" Shawn muttered half to himself, half to Kim. "He once made us arrive forty minutes early to a movie so he could choose the perfect seats. And then when I forgot to hold them when he went for the snacks--which is totally understandable! I dropped my bag of skittles, and they didn't sell the tropical kind in theaters yet--he harangued me for weeks. I'm surprised he didn't bring it up even now."

They ended up settling for two rows down from where Kim wanted, but twelve rows up from Shawn's preferred seats.

"You heard what he said about the front row," Kim said and pointed him up further.

"He didn't mean it. Okay, okay, he did, but are you really going to let your boy hold you back like that? You're your own woman, and now is the time to show it!"

"I am, and that's why we're going to sit where I want." Shawn only managed to vault over the two rows before Kim grabbed the back of his shirt, and before Shawn could ask when she had apparently decided to treat him like a delinquent little brother (and Shawn was half-sure that at least one of the two brothers had been a delinquent), Gus wandered up the stairs, bearing a delicious reprieve. Kim let go of his shirt.

"Oh, Gus, you brought us popcorn." Kim's voice was surprised and tentative, like she was trying to figure out how to let Gus down that she didn't want butter, what with the lactose intolerance. Please. Shawn had totally already taken that bullet for her and let Gus know, because there was no way Shawn wanted to get that emergency call when Gus accidentally poisoned her with Jamba Juice or something.

"Did you want some? I can grab more." Gus gestured back at the lobby exit with his shoulder. His hands were full with the extra large, extra butter popcorn, three drinks, and assorted boxes of candy.

"Um." Kim raised an eyebrow at the ginormous tub and then the other at Gus. "If you wanted dinner, we could have stopped somewhere first."

"This is for Shawn to throw at the screen. I warned you about seeing this movie." Gus looked disapprovingly at Shawn as he snatched the tub.

"You know the rules. You watch a chick flick, I get popcorn."

"You realize theater employees have to clean that up." That was definitely an unamused Kim. Shawn had nothing to back him up, but he had to wonder if maybe she'd worked in a cinema in her youth. Or maybe the brother who wasn't a delinquent had.

"And thus I keep them happily employed! I'm sure, deep down, they thank me. Gus, where are my gummy bears?" Shawn spotted them wedged half in Gus's shirt and grabbed them. "Never mind, found them."

The pile of candy shifted, and Gus did a quick juggle dance to keep them in his arms. "Those were very delicately balanced! You couldn't wait two minutes for me to reshuffle them?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you decided to turn candy delivery into Jumanji."

"It was Tetris," said Gus. "You were the one who turned it into Jumanji, disrupting the careful order."

Shawn sat down, and Gus took the seat next to him, placing Shawn's Mr. Coke (Pibb and Coke combined for a sweet gay marriage of deliciousness) in their shared arm rest. Gus put his own boring water in his other armrest, and Shawn strongly suspected Gus would 'forget' his boring choice and steal sips of Shawn's precious soda throughout the film. Kim walked around the aisle instead of vaulting over like a real trooper (which Shawn knew she could; he could still remember how she'd seemed to have transported directly to the other side of the couch the first time he'd walked in on her, when--and he really didn't want to do this here, _please_\--oh, look, popcorn). She sank into the seat on Gus's other side and shot Shawn the smallest of smiles. She seemed to be straddling the line between Gus's oblivious optimism and Shawn's knowledge that for him, at least, this wasn't going to be a pleasant movie going experience, though maybe he would be able to land a few popcorn kernels in someone's hair if anyone else decided to attend the movie.

"Look, there are skittles," Shawn said encouragingly to Kim, who seemed to be rethinking this whole night out together now that Shawn no longer had a date.

"If Shawn shares with you," Gus said, still looking upbeat about the possibilities the night held.

Awww, Gus had bought him tons of candy to keep him from talking through the film and pissing off Kim. It was adorable, how he thought he could reign Shawn in, especially having already equipped him with so much popcorn. Already, there was a promising target with a long-brimmed hat settling three rows down and two seats over. Shawn decided she was worth five points. Her brother (he was wearing a ring and she wasn't wearing any. Despite the way they sat with their shoulders touching, they didn't have the clandestine air of two young, cheating lovers, and he'd have removed the ring if they were) wore no such easy popcorn catcher, and so Shawn deemed his slicked back hair a twenty.

Oddly, Gus spent more of the movie smacking Shawn's hands or squabbling over the last milk dud or poking him for laughing in inappropriate places than he did cuddling with Kim. Shawn almost felt bad for her, because he knew he was a full-time job sometimes. That was half the reason he'd wanted to leave them to it--the other half being those moments Gus did curl an absent-minded hand around hers even as he whispered in Shawn's ear, "Shut up, Shawn! There's nothing funny about him crying! He doesn't know she still loves him!" Shawn thought Gus got way more into these sorts of movies than he'd ever admit, even if he did do his best to pander to Shawn's short attention span for the duration of the film.

But at the end of the night, Gus went home with Kim. And each awkward, subsequent tricycle of a night out ended the same way--with Gus fist bumping Shawn goodbye and taking Kim home, but not to sleep.

Mostly, Shawn found himself spending the nights Gus went home early at the Psych office, poking at the internet and the files and wondering if this was really what his life was now. He wasn't as tempted as he might have been a year or two ago to pull up stakes from boredom and try teaching English in South Korea or working in a bottling company in South America. And it wasn't as boring as it could have been--he had Gus during the days to drag around on regular and department cases, his (almost) every other weekend to take him out, and it was fine, really, this weird adulthood Shawn had never expected to snag him so easily.

When Kim stopped by the office one evening, Shawn had already resigned himself to the knowledge that this was it.

\--

"Kim," Shawn said slowly, opening the door. "Gus isn't here right now."

"I'm not here to talk with Gus." Shawn gestured Kim in, and she sat down on the couch, fidgeting nervously with her sleeves. Shawn snagged one of the rolling office chairs and straddled it backwards.

"What can I help you with? If you've already forgotten your anniversary, I am absolutely no help," said Shawn. "But I'm pretty sure it's not for at least another half year."

"That's not quite it." She seemed to be having trouble spitting out whatever it was, eyes darting to the door as if to remind herself she could still flee.

"I'm not answering any questions about past girlfriends or what he likes in bed, but I can tell you that he trashed the Gay Kama Sutra when he received it from the most recent Psych Secret Santa, so no worries there."

Kim raised her eyebrows, but ignored what he'd said. After fidgeting with her sleeves a little more, she finally said, "We . . . need to talk."

"No good has ever come of those words in the entire history of mankind," Shawn said automatically, but he sat up a little straighter and stopped swiveling the chair back and forth. "You're not pregnant are you?"

"No! God, no," Kim laughed, but her mouth was closer to a frown than a smile.

"_Gus_ isn't pregnant?"

Kim laughed again, and this time it was a little lighter. "I can see why he likes you so much."

Shawn puffed up his chest. "Who wouldn't?"

"People with discerning taste?" Kim smiled to take the edge off.

"Ouch, harsh." Shawn clutched at his chest.

"No, you're a good person and, and a really good friend." She seemed to be reassuring herself more than Shawn. "And . . . that's why I thought I should talk to you." Just as suddenly, the light mood was gone again. "I've--I'm breaking up with Gus."

It took that a moment to sink in, but Kim just waited patiently for Shawn's response, her hands gripped tight together.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't want him to blame you when it's not your fault. I need you to make him understand."

"Understand what, that he doesn't meet your insanely high standards? That you don't want someone who's practically perfect? He has a steady career and an exciting job! He works out on a regular basis. He even knows what chartreuse is and how to appropriately accessorize without crossing from Ricky Martin to Elton John. He makes the most delicious spice chai muffins that ever existed!"

"Yes," Kim agreed, nodding. "He's an absolute catch."

Shawn waved his hands as if to say, "See! What's wrong with you?"

Her voice was gentle and only a little bitter as she said, "But then there's you."

"I thought you said it wasn't my fault."

"He talks about you in bed." Shawn didn't want to know what expression had crossed his face to provoke her amused smile. "Not like that. Just, anywhere. Always. Worrying about whether your buddy's had all his vitamins today because he seems to be coming down with a cold isn't appropriate pillow talk or reason to stop and call him."

"Gus never called me about vitamins."

"Because I threw a pillow at his head." Kim looked down at her hands. "And then he said I was right, he would probably be more successful sneaking them into your breakfast."

"I thought those blueberry pancakes tasted funny!"

"Shawn," Kim said, calling him firmly back to the point. "I . . . I actually already told him, and he said he wanted to be alone, but I think he could do with a friend now, especially one who doesn't want to be just friends."

"What, you already--" Shawn stood and grabbed his cell. He was already dialing and halfway down the sidewalk when he turned back and saw her following him out, closing the office door behind her. Her lips were quirked up at the corner in what wasn't quite a smile, but not quite a frown, either. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped and waved him on. She blinked her eyes a little too often.

It occurred to Shawn that she really did like Gus, and that he would probably never see her again. He felt like shit, but even though he wasn't as happy as he'd originally expected (there was no spontaneous dancing or urge to jump up and down), he still couldn't bring himself to care.

There was even a small, rising voice that said "Maybe, maybe now," and the echoed reminder of "There are always chances, all these chances passing by every single second," and "You can't be afraid of caring too much forever," and "It's already too late."

Gus wasn't answering the phone, and Shawn was a little more lax than usual with following traffic laws on the way to Gus's apartment. He didn't pass any police cars, though, and traffic was light considering the hour. Having a motorcycle once again proved fortuitous in finding street parking.

For once, Shawn knocked before entering Gus's apartment. When there was no answer, he walked in anyway, because why stop now when his main reason not to was gone?

Gus was sitting in the center of the couch, his head resting in his hands.

Shawn cleared his throat. "Hey there, buddy," he said, almost afraid for Gus to look up, because he wasn't sure how well he could deal with Gus crying. The crazed, spiraling ideas that had rippled ever further outward and called ever louder quieted at the sight of his best friend, brokenhearted. "There are always chances," they echoed one last time, and Shawn thought, But this isn't one of them. He crossed the room and sat next to Gus, bumping shoulders awkwardly. "Jerk chicken?"

Gus finally looked up, and his eyes weren't streaked red or puffy, like Shawn was expecting (Gus had cried for two weeks after Amy Thompson dumped him to concentrate on her studies so she could get into Brown). Instead, he looked kind of bemused.

"You know, I never thought it would last this long."

"You and Kim?" Was Shawn the only one who'd resigned himself to Kim as a new fixture in his life?

"You staying in Santa Barbara." And okay, tonight they were playing non sequitur Olympics, and Gus was obviously going for the gold.

"We kind of have a business together. Psych? Psychically solving crime, or at least an approximation thereof?"

"But the first lease was only for six months. It's been over two _years_."

Shawn considered being offended at how easily Gus assumed Shawn would flee out into the unknown again, if it hadn't been spot on for Shawn's entire adult life. And really, okay, maybe Shawn was still a little indignant anyway. "And you thought, what, a serious relationship would drive me away again?"

Gus didn't hesitate: "Yes."

"You--" Shawn scrubbed a hand through his hair and tried taking several deep breaths. "You wanted me to leave."

"What? No, I wasn't--I wasn't talking about me," Gus said, standing. "I mean, I was, but not--look, Shawn, I know, okay? I've always known."

"When Leia said that, she was totally lying. You know she had no idea Luke was her brother when they had all those happy make-out times."

"Shut up, I wasn't making a Star Wars reference. I just--" Gus sighed and rubbed a hand against his forehead, and Shawn let his mind race ahead.

If Gus wasn't talking about him and Kim, then what did he mean about serious relationships, and if he meant himself and someone, then who--and in that split second of realization, Shawn, hands raised, started backing up for the door.

"All you had to do was say no, Gus. I may have been oblivious the past couple of months, but I can take a hint." Unfortunately, Gus couldn't, because he started crossing the room to Shawn.

"Shawn, wait, it's not--"

"No, really, I can be in Baltimore tomorrow if--"

"I don't want--"

"The lease will be fine, I won't--"

"Shawn, behind y--"

Shawn didn't turn in time, and there was that cursed umbrella holder that had it out for him. It was like a trap for the unwary, and it was no wonder Gus didn't care about his security if his place was so well-guarded by the furnishings alone. Gus grabbed Shawn's arm as he went down, but that just meant they went down together. They ended up sprawled out on the floor, Gus crushing Shawn, and Shawn's head once more feeling like someone had taken a pick axe to it to hunt for gooey brain candy. Worse yet, Gus had one of those stubborn, murderous expressions that said he wasn't moving until Shawn submitted to his will and heard him out entirely, and Shawn didn't need to hear how Gus had apparently found the love of his life running from Shawn, only to be dumped through some strange sort of karma when she thought they were still too close. Shawn couldn't deal with that right now.

"Shawn, just listen to me for a second."

"No," Shawn said and tried pushing at Gus, even if he was heavy and Shawn's arms felt like they were made out of blueberry Jello. It didn't work so well. Time for Plan B.

"What I'm trying to tell you is--"

Shawn kissed Gus. It was the one sure-fire way to get Gus off of him, and while Gus flung himself halfway across the room, Shawn could slip out the door. He'd been trying so hard to not run away, and succeeding pretty damn well, but when it was being actively encouraged by his best friend, who was he to say no?

. . . Except that wasn't what happened. Gus went stiff for a second, before relaxing into the kiss, even taking things a step further and opening his mouth.

This time when Shawn started pushing Gus away, it was mostly out of surprise. "Dude, you--"

"Yes, that's what I was trying to--"

"But what about--" Shawn asked with some alarm, because in this one case, there was no way he wanted to be a rebound.

"I did like her, but I--You've always been--"

And then they were kissing again, Shawn licking his way into Gus's mouth and tugging at Gus's shirttails. It took an extraordinary application of will to pull away again, but there were two pressing issues. "But you did like her."

"I did," Gus confirmed, tracing his thumb along Shawn's lips. "It's possible to like more than one person, Shawn."

Shawn wanted to ask who Gus liked more, but he didn't want Gus to hit him, and he already knew the answer, anyway. Please. Like Gus could ever choose anyone over his best, most awesome friend. Shawn couldn't stop smiling, even though . . .

"Also, I think I might have a concussion again."

"What? You--" Gus scrambled off of Shawn and placed a hand in front of his face. "How many fingers?" Shawn batted Gus's hand away.

"We both know you're going to drag me to the emergency room anyway. Let's get it over with."

\--

Shawn didn't have a concussion this time around, but had to suffer through, after a brief glance at his chart, the doctor lecturing him on the dire consequences of accruing too many head wounds and then admonishing Gus to take better care of Shawn.

"I've been the one to bring you in the past five times in the last year alone," Gus said. "Of course they think we're dating. I'm just glad they don't think I'm abusing you."

"Like you could take me."

"My umbrella stand can take you."

"That's not fair, I was distracted!"

"Whatever," Gus said, squeezing Shawn's hand as they drew closer to the car. "I'll take you home."

"We're not going back to your place?" Shawn waved his free hand.

"It's four in the morning. We're going to sleep." Gus unlocked the car and bundled Shawn into the passenger side.

"We could totally sleep," said Shawn once Gus was in the driver's seat. "But together."

Gus just looked at Shawn for a few seconds with that little frowny, doubtful face before starting the car.

"What about all that platonic napping! I didn't once try anything!"

"Half the time I woke up with your hands up my shirt, and that was before, well, this," Gus said with a simple hand motion between the two of them. "You have no self control, Shawn."

"I have awesome self control."

"Oh yeah? Give me one example. And no, not sending Val Kilmer that twelve page epic poem about his hair because you didn't want a restraining order before his next con appearance doesn't count."

Gus hadn't taken the car out of park yet, so Shawn felt safe in unbuckling his seat belt and leaning across the gear shaft to brush a light kiss across Gus's mouth. Then Shawn settled back in his seat and put his seat belt back on. He swallowed hard and let his head rest gently against the window.

"I've been waiting fifteen years," Shawn admitted. "I can wait a few more hours."

He closed his eyes and was startled to wake to Gus's hand on his shoulder and voice low in his ear: "We're here."

"But, Gus," Shawn said, blinking slowly, "this is your apartment."

"You made a very compelling argument."

\--

Despite temptation, Shawn was too tired to try anything, and it still felt like miners were attempting to extricate precious brain candy ore. He stumbled up the stairs after Gus and followed him into the bedroom, leaving his shoes and pants at the door, but not bothering to remove anything else. Shawn fell asleep with his hands up Gus's shirt and his head pillowed against Gus's shoulder.

Everything else could wait until morning.

\--

When Shawn woke up, there was a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin on the bedside table. He took two and wandered into Gus's kitchen sipping the water. Gus was in the process of making pancakes and kept smacking Shawn's hands with the spatula whenever he tried to sneak some of the blueberries.

With any other person, Shawn would have expected it to be awkward. Between the break-up, the kissing, the emergency room trip, and the revelation that Gus had known how Shawn felt for long before he'd even met Kim (not to mention that he'd felt the same and done all of, oh, _nothing_ about it), Shawn expected it to be awkward even with them.

Instead, they sat down for breakfast and Gus said, "We can stop by the store for pineapple later," before Shawn could ask, and then they fought over the last pancake. Gus proceeded to mock Shawn mercilessly when he spilled the syrup in the pancake stabbing struggle, but helped him clean it up, licking syrup off Shawn's fingers and then his mouth.

"I really do have to work today," Gus said, but he pushed Shawn up against the counter and kissed him for five and a half minutes before saying, "Right. Work."

Shawn rubbed his lips with his fingers and considered following him (Mrs. Pickles was having her second litter! She'd taken a terrible tumble down the stairs, and Gus needed to come before it was too late!); but then it hit him just how the burglar had made it into Amelia's apartment (he hadn't; the jewelry had never made it there) and instead he was stealing Gus's clothing so he could go to the station.

A little after three, Shawn stole Gus away from his work to sneak in to the backstage of the opera posing as insurance inspectors. Five days later, Shawn finally cracked their latest case (with some help from Gus, an overheard conversation between Lassiter and Jules, and an abandoned flowerpot), and--despite his best intentions to give Gus his space and not take things too far too quickly--Shawn dragged Gus back to his apartment afterward for triumphant celebration sex.

It became something of a thing.

\--

"This is the last time," Gus said indignantly. "I'm changing my locks."

"Do you think you're the only one suffering here? I'd always been so proud of my no therapy record, but now--"

"You?" Henry asked with his back turned. "Shawn, you told me to meet you here!" He gestured violently behind him at the box dropped on the floor, but didn't turn around.

"That was only the first message! Then I realized I didn't need my old chemistry set and I told you to forget it! That was, like, three hours ago!"

"Oh my God," said Gus. "You can keep arguing. I'm going to change."

Shawn waved his hands in frustration and then grabbed his shirt from the table and pulled it on again.

"I'm dressed again--you can turn around."

Henry did, but he still didn't look happy. "Congratulations, Shawn, but next time you want to tell me something I've already figured out, you can just leave a message. Tell Gus I want him to come to dinner tomorrow." He walked out, leaving the box behind.

"But you apparently don't actually check your messages!" Shawn called at his retreating back.

"Is your dad going to kill me?" asked Gus, who--in a display of utter bravery--had been listening in from the bedroom and waited for Shawn's dad to leave before returning to the living room.

"Don't be silly, dude. He loves you," Shawn said with confidence. "He's going to kill me."

"So what would you like for your last meal?" Gus asked, smirking.

And the thing was, Gus hadn't been the only one afraid of what would happen if they'd dated. Shawn had spent something like half his life holding back and falling in love with other people, because the sad truth was that though Shawn wasn't afraid of rejection or the status quo, he'd always worried how things might change on the off chance Gus did say yes. It was kind of a relief to discover the only major difference was less chastisement over casual nudity and (Shawn hoped) getting laid on a regular basis.

Shawn bumped their shoulders together and grabbed Gus's ass, but the mood was gone. Shawn gently slid the box out of the doorway into the place where the umbrella holder had once stood (Gus hadn't fished it out of the trash again yet, and Shawn had high hopes that this time, throwing it away would take).

"Jerk chicken?" Shawn asked, gesturing to the still open door.

"You know that's right." Gus grabbed his jacket (and, Shawn noted, his wallet) and led the way.

For a last meal and a last dinner partner, Shawn thought he'd chosen well.


End file.
